


Twitterpated

by RadScavver



Series: The Cadriff Chronicles [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Implied/Referenced Animal Death, James is not mentioned by name, Other, Pre-Relationship, Rads will not tolerate anyone hurting her babies, Self Confidence Issues, Slight harm to a mirelurk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadScavver/pseuds/RadScavver
Summary: A simple enough chore turns into something a bit deeper.





	Twitterpated

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There is a scene of slight hurt towards the mirelurk, but it is brief and immediately stopped. No characters are trying to harm the creatures in this work.

Rads nibbles on her thumb, eyes darting over and back. It’s _him_. The angelic settler she’d seen so long ago. He’s still gorgeous, more so even. His shoulders have gotten broad; his arms thick with prominent muscle. She’d seen him moving around some scrap and working on the turrets earlier. Just watching the fluid motion of him had made her almost dizzy. Her hands tingle at the very memory. Almost like an itch, but one that can only be eased by touching, and if that isn’t an awkward thought…

She’s been working alongside him now for several hours. They’re trying to calibrate new nullifiers, ones that will take up less space and still have the same range. Unfortunately, it’s...uncomfortable. For her, at least. She can’t tell if he’s feeling anything like she is. Her heart’s been damn near buzzing, nearly as irritating as a stingwing’s telltale hum. Everything’s sweaty, from her hands to under her arms to her feet. Hell, even her neck is damp. It’s not even that hot out!

All she wants is the familiar white noise of her babies. She’s tired of this uneasy _knowing_ that’s trapped inside her skull right now. Beside him, crouched as he is while he digs about inside the innards of a transmitter, she’s so very aware of how big she is. Some sort of...of… _shame_ that’s she’s not the starved waif she’d been before. No more bird-like limbs. No more sharp collarbones and jutting crests at her hips. She’s all enormous thighs and arms big as a super mutant and jiggly tummy. Life as lieutenant is something she’s damn proud of...but all the fighting and running and steady diet had definitely molded her into someone vastly different from when she’d started.

With a sharp exhale from her nose, she reaches out to tap a finger gently along the brow of her volunteer for this project. The killclaw chitters softly, mandibles preening in its calm. It makes her giggle, nose wrinkling as those dewy eyes rove about. She absently flicks away a strong of mucous from the bulbous surface. Tiny claws click together lightly. Snickering, she taps her fingers on the rim of its carapace in a jaunty pattern.

“Alright, I’m going to turn it on.”

Rads jumps at _his_ voice, and then forces herself to steady when the ‘lurk beneath her hand tenses in response. Smiling down at it, she inclines her head to give the go ahead. There’s a gentle thunk when the switch is thrown. In silence, they wait. Her eyes are intent on her baby, carefully keeping watch for any odd behaviors. She’d already learned the hard way when nullifiers were first made or the settlements. Once in a while, she still wakes from nightmares of molerats gone mad. Nothing is going wrong this time, thankfully. She relaxes, closing her eyes, and lets her mind wander. There’ll be so many more homes for her babies now. It’ll mean a lot of traveling to keep tabs on their well-being, but it’s little trouble for their happiness. The ‘lurk brushes against her side. Opening her eyes, she smiles down at it...and stares.

“Turn it off!” She’s already dropping to her knees. “Turn the fucking thing off!”

Its whole body is quaking, so coiled tight that she can actually _hear_ its chitin tapping together. Those big eyes are unfocused and rolling. There’s a soft scream whistling past its clenched mandibles. Rads can hear the machine powering down, but she doesn’t turn away from the poor thing.

“Hey, sweetie,” she croons, fingernails tip-tapping tenderly along its face, “it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve gotcha, sweet pea. C’mon, easy now.”

She stays like this for a while, soothing her ‘lurk a best she can. When it seems more steady, less likely to shatter apart in its fear, Rads nudges it off toward the pond not far away. Things are quiet as the beast scuttles off to bury itself in the mud.

Immediately after that obsidian shell is indistinguishable from the foliage, she whirls on him with a snarl, “What did-?”

“Is it okay?” He looks pale and frustrated. There are lines now, harsh around eyes that seem so strained. “It’s not hurt is it? I didn’t hurt it?”

Rads stares. No one ever…not outside the General. With a rough exhale, she shoves a hand into vibrant curls. God, how can she be mad when he’s making such an expression?

“No...nothing that can’t be fixed with some tatos. He was more scared than actually hurt.”

The relief in him now is strong enough to make him look light-headed. She blinks at him, tilting her head as she warily observes him sway.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asks.

His dark head bobs. She nearly lunges when it makes him lean sharply.

“Y-Yeah, just glad he’s okay.”

Her eyes squint, trying to burn a path into his brain. She needs to know.

“Why?”

“They’re yours, right?”

Her lips pulls back, baring crooked teeth in a ferine warning. “I care for them, yes.”

“I’m trying to make _everyone_ feel safe, human or not. I can’t make something that keeps us safe while hurting them.”

One hand rubs at her sternum, trying to soothe the oddly painful thump that his words cause. Despite making her feel like she needs to deck him-if only because she doesn’t know how else to stop the ache under her skin-there’s a look of determination to that clear face of his. It’s...endearing. Her rough fingertips trace a line along her clavicle. A thought creeps in, a drip of curiosity about how soft the skin would be at the crook of his neck. Would that line in his brow ease if she stroked his hair? Would he bend his head to her like the creatures of the ‘Wealth? Eager and pliant and-

“Do it for me?”

She gasps, voice heaving out thick, raspy, “What?”

He gestures toward the pond, toward her baby.

“Whatever is it that you do to tame them? Can you show me or...explain, if that’s easier?”

Teeth coming together with a loud clack, she thinks. It’s never been something she really thought about. How did she pacify her babies? She’d just done what felt right, made sounds that seemed right or moved in a way that made them less defensive. Hell, she’d only “taught” Sanders a method through proximity. Even the General had only asked for pointers because she’d had a method that already worked most of the time.

“Uh, you feeling okay?”

Jerking, Rads glances over at him. What was that odd waver in his voice? She spots the reason quickly enough.

“Brutus!” she scolds, hurrying over to shove at the hulking yao guai snuffling at his hair. “Leave the poor man alone. You’re supposed to be patrolling the east side of camp!”

The mutated bear does little more than puff humid air at the back of his head, eliciting a smooth brow to arch at her. Any bemusement is lost when a wet nose presses against his cheek.She can’t help it, giggles slipping loose at the flat look of forced cool on his face. The stunned betrayal that follows destroys any control she’d had.

Openly laughing, she tries to push at that shaggy head. It all dissolves as Brutus doesn’t even budge, tiny ears flicking about as he remains invested in whatever scent he’d picked up. Minutes pass and she’s basically just draped on the bear, trying to muffle peals of laughter into his hairless hide, and the settler just stares at the heavens like he’s waiting for divine intervention.

Brutus starts trying to lick his face.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezes. “He’s j-just really friendly.”

“Guess he’s got good taste in friends,” he sighs, lips quirking in a sheepish grin.

“And you’re a man of good taste!”

He looks absolutely affronted; Rads cackles so loud the yao guai finally turns away from its quest. She shoos Brutus off to the hushed sound of the settler’s own subdued snickering. Surprisingly, the bear obeys, trundles off to sniff around the pond.

“Must’ve got bored,” she croaks, scrubbing the tears off her cheeks. When was the last time she laughed that hard? “Or my joke was too bland for him.”

She turns to him, only to find herself frozen like a radstag in sight of a predator. He’s staring at her, open and blatant, with a look she can’t decipher. Eyes glint, pupils expand to swallow that enticing brown. Like he’s trying to pry her apart piece by piece. Like he wants to see what makes her tick, wants to root around inside her chest cavity as though she were just another machine for him to tweak.

It almost feels like she’s staring down the barrel of a smoking rifle.

Why is that….exciting?

He grins at her, a crescent moon of pearly white, “Maybe I’ve just got a refined palette?”

Rads heart pounds. It feels like a song.


End file.
